Star Teacher (35 page)

We sat there in silence while the clock ticked on. From Room 109 there came a faint murmur of voices but no discernible words. A shaft of sharp sunlight streamed through one of the high, circular windows and motes of dust hovered like tiny fireflies, floating without purpose or direction. Time went by. It felt like an eternity.

The norm was for the successful candidate to be summoned first and formally offered the post. So we waited for Rosa Klebb to return with her clipboard and invite one of us to follow her back into Room 109. Finally, the door creaked open and to my surprise it wasn't Miss Clipboard but rather Miss Barrington-Huntley with a stern expression on her face.

There was a pause as she measured the import of her words. ‘I'm sorry,' she said, ‘but there's a lengthy debate going on and we still have much to discuss.' She saw the reaction from the three of us. ‘So, with this in mind, I shall contact you all by telephone this evening with our decision. Thank you, and I wish you a safe journey home.' With that she closed the door firmly. It was unusual to say the least and simply served to draw out the uncertainty and tension.

Jenny Wainwright walked down the staircase with me. ‘I hear you're the present headteacher of Ragley,' she said.

‘That's right, for the past nine years.'

‘Well, I wish you luck.'

‘And you,' I replied.

She walked briskly and with a natural confidence towards her car, apparently unconcerned, and I remembered the words of the Doncaster headteacher, who had described her as one of the rising stars of education in South Yorkshire.

Rufus caught me up in the car park. ‘That was strange,' he said. ‘I wonder what caused the delay.'

‘No idea,' I said. I had no wish to talk.

He pointed towards Jenny Wainwright, who was starting up her Vauxhall Nova. ‘She was in there a long time.'

I nodded, but said nothing.

He pressed on regardless, eager to impart more information. ‘While you were being interviewed I discovered that she and I had both been shortlisted next week for the headship of a large primary school in Bridlington.'

‘You have another interview?'

‘Two more,' he said with a smug smile. ‘The second is in Cumbria two days later.'

‘Well, I hope it works out for you,' I said.

He set off across the car park, then paused and called over his shoulder, ‘But of course I may get the Ragley and Morton headship.'

Beth had arrived home early and John's birthday party was in full swing. He had started to attend the local nursery class, two mornings each week, and four of his friends had arrived to share his special day. Two of the mothers had stayed to help, along with Mrs Roberts and Natasha Smith, who were in the kitchen clearing away the party food.

Beth had kept John's birthday cake on top of the fridge, waiting for me to share the moment. She looked up at me expectantly as I walked in and I kissed her on her cheek and whispered, ‘They're ringing the candidates tonight with the decision.'

There was momentary surprise, but her composure was excellent. She recognized my concern and squeezed my hand. ‘Time for John's cake,' she said.

We sang ‘Happy Birthday to You' and John blew out his candles. ‘Again, Mummy,' he cried. Blowing out candles was fun. Natasha lit them again and his friends joined in.

By 6.30 everyone had gone home and the house was quiet. I got John ready for bed while Beth prepared an evening meal. The minutes ticked by and I kept looking up at the clock on the kitchen wall.

Eventually Beth said, ‘Jack, why don't you take John into the garden?'

The early-evening sunshine was welcome and I sat on the bench with John on my knee in his pyjamas. Next to me the ‘Peace' roses were in full bloom and their fragrance filled the air. I was reading a colourful book,
The Gingerbread Man
, and John was repeating the words. He loved to turn the thick cardboard pages with his strong little fingers. It was one of his favourite stories and he regularly repeated, ‘Run, run, said the gingerbread man.' Our hero, the Seb Coe of the biscuit world, escaped the clutches of everyone until finally he met his nemesis – namely, the wily fox who swallowed him up on the last page. It always struck me as a particularly unfortunate and violent end to the tale, but John was entirely unconcerned and merely said, ‘Again, please, Daddy.'

The salivating fox had just devoured the distinctly naive gingerbread man for the second time when I heard the telephone ring. I picked up John, hurried inside and sat him in the hallway next to his pile of Lego bricks.

Beth held out the receiver. ‘It's Miss Barrington-Huntley,' she said simply.

I knew the next conversation would determine my future career.

Over the years my happiest days had been at Ragley School and I prayed they would continue.

I took a deep breath and listened to her words. They were calm and precise. She spoke at length.

Finally I knew.

And in a heartbeat … I began a new journey.

Jack Sheffield
was born in 1945 and grew up in the tough environment of Gipton Estate, in north-east Leeds. After a job as ‘pitch boy', repairing roofs, he became a Corona pop man before going to St John's College, York, and training to be a teacher. In the late seventies and eighties, he was a headteacher of two schools in North Yorkshire before becoming Senior Lecturer in Primary Education at Bretton Hall College at the University of Leeds. It was at this time that he began to record his many amusing stories of village life, as portrayed in
Teacher, Teacher!
,
Mister Teacher
,
Dear Teacher
,
Village Teacher
,
Please Sir!
,
Educating Jack, School's Out!
and
Silent Night.

Star Teacher
is his ninth novel in the Teacher series and continues the story of life in the fictional village of Ragley-on-the-Forest. He lives with his wife in Hampshire.

Visit his website at
www.jacksheffield.com

Teacher, Teacher!

Mister Teacher

Dear Teacher

Village Teacher

Please Sir!

Educating Jack

School's Out!

Silent Night

For more information on Jack Sheffield and his books, see his website at
www.jacksheffield.com

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First published in Great Britain by Bantam Press
an imprint of Transworld Publishers
Copyright © Jack Sheffield 2015

Jack Sheffield has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

This book is a work of fiction and, except in the case of historical fact, any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, is purely coincidental.

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Version 1.0 Epub ISBN 9780593075074
ISBN 9780593075067

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